MANSION MUSIK (Original) lyrics

by

Playboi Carti


[Intro: Trippie Redd]
(I'm shy, oh my God)
Ha (Phew)
Yeah, yeah

[Verse 1: Trippie Redd & Playboi Carti]
n*ggas wanna be my kin, pus*y, you not my folks (Phew)
Ride around town in a Benz, put that b*tch on spokes (Phew)
Spent eight mil' on the crib, bought that b*tch with a moat (Phew)
b*tch, I just got rich, let's have a Goddamn toast (Phew)
Step on a n*gga in Ricks, got on a cranberry coat (Phew)
Yeah, it's me and my ho', snake eyes, b*tch, like a G.I. Joe (Phew)
Baby, sit back, just smoke my dope, go get your brother, I heard that he croak
Put that on your mother, I know y'all hoes (Phew), still gotta stick to the code (Phew)
Boy, I get in that mode, don't play with me, boy, this sh*t ain't for show
88 keys, no piano, gotta get it how you live, that's my MO
Yeah, she want the whole thing, not the demo
Pull in through a tunnel in my Maybach limo' (Huh)
Yeah, she want double trouble, that's akimbo
Whip her head back and forth, not no Willow (Huh)
Get that n*gga off that horse, feel like Django (Hol' up)
Sendin' shots everywhere, I feel like Rambo (Huh)
Call of Duty, b*tch (Huh), pull up with commandos (Huh)
I might buy a yacht, feel like Jack Sparrow (Huh)
Posted in the field like a damn scarecrow
And my brother sellin' white like some ashy elbows
Shawty what's ya' name? Put you in Chanel, ho'
I ain't even at the beach but I could send some shells, ho'
Gotta get the all-black Ricks, shell-toes
Keep all of that gangster sh*t up off the cell phones
My brother in the hole we can't talk off the jail phone
With my brothers in the streets, man, I feel like Elmo
Sending all the shots and I got all the ammo
Got this sh*t lit like a damn candle
Pop a n*gga's top like a damn canned good
Chrome Heart shades look like some Ray-Bans, yeah
Red car, red bag, feel like Santa
Red bandana, here to f*ck your plans up
What's up in your head? You want some smoke? Some cancer
pus*y, get your bands up, codeine in the Fanta
Pull them poles on you n*ggas, turn you into dancers
Yeah, AK-47 with a damn banana
Turn a pus*y block into a damn bonanza
I got white like Hannah, proud of me like Tana
They got peach at they crib like they in Alabama
Sippin' 1942 mixed with Tropicana
Pour a four, "Skadoosh," Kung Fu Panda
With the gangsters and the robbers chilling in Atlanta
Feds hit the trap, throw the codeine in the blammer
I'm on Magnolia, cops putting me in handcuffs
[Verse 2: Playboi Carti]
I just popped a— (Phew)
I can't stand up (Hol' up)
I just popped a codeine— (Hol' up)
I can't stand up (Huh)
Shawty suck me all night, she f*cked my pants up (Huh, phew)
Jumpin' out the box, we finna f*ck ya' day up (Huh)
Jumpin' out that box, I finger f*ck her
I finger f*ck her
She let me buss it (Huh, uh)
This ho' bussin' (Hol' up)
She let me buss it (Hol' up)
This how I buss it (Hol' up)
This how I— (Hol' up, uh)
On my ones (Hol' up, huh)
Codeine drugs (Hol' up, huh)
Movin' packs (Hol' up, hol' up)
Move that truck (Hol' up, hol' up)
One in the head (Hol' up, hol' up)
Don't give a f*ck (Uh, uh)
Stomp on a opp (Hol' up, hol' up)
Don't give a f*ck (Hol' up, uh)
Drive off (Hol' up, hol' up)
Brand new car (Hol' up, hol' up)
Brand new watch (Hol' up, slatt)
Got them broads (Hol' up, slatt)
Brand new watch (Hol' up)
pus*y boy, [?]
I'ma [?] comin' with the 9
[Outro: Trippie Redd]
Woo, woo, woo (Bosley), 800 gang
1400 (Bah), Big 14 (Bah), know what the f*ck going on (Bah, bah), gang
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